Rivals
by Anlynne
Summary: What if Malfoy, and Granger didn't start off as enemies, but friends? Simply two students in rival houses? Two students with very different backgrounds? Two students with everything to lose?
1. Chapter 1

No Copyright Infringement Intended

No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter One

Young Rivals

Hermione Granger, a busy haired girl with large front teeth, and Draco Malfoy, a blonde haired boy with a pointed face. They lived two streets away from each other. In a park one sunny afternoon they became the best of friends in the sandbox when she shared her plastic shovel with him. They were only four, but a bond formed between them then.

Every Friday Hermione, and Draco would sit in that sandbox playing, and sharing. Even in winter when their time was limited to fifteen minutes in the cold. They didn't mind, it was fifteen minutes they wouldn't have had throwing snowballs at each other. This didn't mean that they didn't whine, and beg for an extra minute, because they did. Everyday.

Most children as they grow older fall out of love with the playground. The sandbox irritates the skin, the swings are boring, and the slide too hot from the sun's rays. However, this didn't stop the two children. Until the age of 11 they continued to meet there. They talked, and laughed, and whether or not they were sliding down on scolding metal, or simply sitting on the bench rattling off about nothing. There was nothing between the two, not even the different lives they lead.

Draco Malfoy was a wizard. Hermione Granger was a muggleborn. The wizarding world was kept secret from the muggles, but Draco knew that Hermione was only born to muggles, it didn't mean she didn't possess magic. Somewhere along the lines of muggles in her family was at least one wizard, or witch that she inherited from. When she first showed evidence of magic at five years old making a flower bloom in the dead of winter Draco couldn't have been happier. His best friend could know about him, and the world he belonged to, soon to be her world too.

"Hermione?" Draco asked hesitantly pushing his friend gently on the swing.

Hermione swung her legs out in front of her feeling the August wind blowing against her, "yes, Draco?"

"Did you get your letter?"  
She grinned, her smile reaching to her eyes. "Yeah, I did! My parents were so happy. What about you, did you get yours?"

"Naturally. You have to get into Slytherin, alright?"

She inwardly groaned. "But what I heard from Dumbledore, Gryffindor sounds like the best house."

He groaned out loud. "No, we'll be rivals."

As she came down she dug her heels into the earth skidding to a stop. She turned around to Draco over her shoulder. "We'll never be rivals, Draco. We'll be best friends. Always."

"But our houses -"

"_They're_ rivals. Not us. Never us." Hermione leaned up hugging her friend. Nothing could tear them apart.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft, and Wizardry was huge. When Dumbledore had come to her house to explain to her parents about the school he told them it was a castle. He wasn't kidding, and she couldn't wait to start exploring, first all to find where the library was. Surely it was filled with thousands of interesting books. She wanted to do well in this world. It was not a world she was born into, and she had something to prove to everyone who was.

"Slytherin," the hat called barely touching Draco's platinum hair.

Hermione closed her eyes for a second, breathing. She heard her name. She willed herself to calm. "Just relax," she told herself. She heard a red haired boy with dirt _still_ on his nose calling her mental. She thought she heard the skinny boy calling him Ron, and him Harry.

She walked into the front of the Great Hall, a huge room with four long tables each for a different house, and a table overlooking them for the professors. She lifted herself on the chair as Professor McGonagall a stern looking witch sat an old, and rather dingy looking hat on her head. It fell over her eyes, and she heard a voice in her ear. It startled her, and she clutched the chair that she sat in tighter.

"Interesting... A large amount of bravery, and brains. Very eager... You'd do well in Ravenclaw, very well indeed, but... There is too much bravery to be ignored... Yes, Gryffindor." The hat yelled her house loudly to the rest of the school. She heard polite clapping from the Gryffindor table, and she hopped down to join them.

She was in Gryffindor, the house she wanted since Dumbledore told her about them. Hermione glanced over at the Slytherin table. Her best friend who only a few moments before was ecstatic, now looked as if he had lost his best friend. In his eyes, she suppose he did, but that wasn't going to stop her, no matter what house they were in she vowed that they would be friends.

"You're late," Draco informed snapping the book he had been reading closed.

"Thanks for letting me know, I had no idea," Hermione said sarcastically to her friend dropping her heavy book bag beside her. They sat in the most secluded table in the library. It was where they could get the most peace from other chattering students.

"Where were you?"

"Harry, and Ron needed my help with something." For the first time in their friendship Hermione didn't tell him the truth. Not the whole truth at least. She was helping her two new friends recover what they just recently found out was the Sorcerers Stone. She knew very well that Draco hated them, mostly because he felt that she was being taking away from him. She thought it was ridiculous.

"Potter, and Weasley? You're with them too much."

"They're my friends."

"And what am I?"

"You're my friend too, Draco. Honestly, you can't be jealous."

"I'm not," he yelled earning a glare from Madam Pince.

"Exactly what I said. Lets just study." She pulled out her Transfiguration book opening it to a random page to avoid the glare he was giving her. They knew each other too well, and he knew that she was up to something, and she knew it hurt him deeply that she wouldn't tell him.

"You three are up to something."

"Draco, please, let it go already!"

"Why won't you tell me? What have I possibly done to make you not trust me?"  
"You hate them! You got us all into detention!" She hated that she was bringing up this old fight, but it couldn't be helped. Anything to make him see what he was doing to them. It was only for Harry, and Ron, because if he found out he would turn them in, like he had with the dragon Hagrid kept in his wooden house. He had gone so far as to spy on them, and get them all in detention. They fought about it for months finally coming to a silent agreement, an agreement that Hermione broke then.

"You didn't even like them at the beginning of term! They save you from a troll, and all of a sudden you don't leave their side."

"You can't have me all to yourself. I'm here right now, aren't I? I see you everyday, we talk, we hang out by the lake -"

"I don't like you with them."

Hermione sighed not bothering to reply. What good would it have done when he said the truth, but she couldn't get him to understand that it wasn't the same with them. They saved her from a troll, yes, she owed them a lot. They did prove to be amazing friends, but Draco's was hers first, she had a loyalty to him as well.

Draco opened his book, and shut it again. He shook his head angrily. "I can't study here. I'll study in my common room. See ya, Granger."

She watched in amazement as he walked away. It wasn't their first fight, they had many over the years, but he never walked away. She half expected him to come back in, but he didn't. What hurt more than that was the use of her surname. He called her that as much as he walked away.

Draco was right, being in rival houses made them rivals as well. It should have become a law of some sort, like gravity. It was unavoidable. That day she lost her best friend.

Draco's words echoed in her ears. "You filthy mudblood," he told her earlier that day. Now she laid in her four poster bed in the girls dormitory reliving the incident. The craziness that erupted from those three words, Ron attempting to curse him, but because of his broken wand only cursed himself instead. Draco had the gall to laugh, and she had never been so mad at him in her life she almost wished that the curse would have hit him, but Hagrid was right, it was best that way, Ron would have been in real trouble, especially with Draco's despicable father if he had cursed him.

Hermione didn't know Draco's father well. His mother was always took him to the park, and his father never knew of the friendship between them. She did know that he was a cold man, not only from what Draco had told her over the years, but since she saw him at the train station her first year. She could tell by the way he stood, spoke, that annoying cane he carried everywhere that she somehow knew was a wand. Lucius Malfoy was grooming his son to be just like him.

She didn't know what the word 'mudblood' meant until Ron told her. She almost didn't believe that Draco would have said such a thing to her, but Ron made a lot of sense about Mr. Malfoy. It made perfect sense in fact that they were dark wizards. The only question remained was how Draco ever became friends with her when she was a muggleborn. She didn't need to ask, because through a day of reflecting upon it she already knew. There were only two reasons. Draco had wanted to hurt her, or his father was trying to prove a point. She knew Draco, she cared for him, and she was willing to bet every one of her books that it was the latter.

Before she had retired to her bed for the night, she had been in the library getting away from Harry, and Ron's tense chess game. No matter how Harry improved he could never beat Ron, but that didn't stop him from trying. Normally it didn't bother her, but after all that happened that evening she wanted to be by herself.

Draco always knew where to find her. She still sat at their secluded table in the library even if he didn't join her anymore. She was just putting the last book in her book bag when he approached. He looked all around him as if scared to be seen with her. She was disgusted at him.

"Herm-"

"Don't you dare call me by my first name," she hissed.

Draco looked taken aback. "I'm sor-"  
"I don't care. I don't want to hear your excuses, because there are _no_ excuses to call me what you did."

"So, what, you're never going to forgive me?" He said this in a joking way, but his complexion paled even more so when he saw that she wasn't.

"No. You made it clear two summers ago that we could never be friends if we're in two different houses. You were right, congratulations." She stalked out of the library leaving him behind.

As she laid in her bed she cried, dampening her pillow. Summer was going to be so lonely. Right there, and then she made a vow. She wouldn't return to that park again. There was no need to without him.


	2. Chapter 2

No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter Two

Why

It was Hermione's sixth year at Hogwarts, one she happily shared with her two best friends Harry, and Ron. They had their fair share of adventures in the past years with sorcerer's stones, basilisks, escaped "convicts," dragon eggs, and the Order of the Phoenix. It only drew them closer. She couldn't imagine having better friends than them, and on top of it all she had the best marks of her year. Yes, life was good.

The summers still remained a sad parting. She had been lucky enough to spend some of it with Ron's large family. She had kept to her vow faithfully, and aside from driving past it, she never stepped foot into that playground, though it didn't stop her thinking of him when she did see it. It was an old ache that never left her. She missed him terribly, but she kept reminding herself of what he had become, and the ache dulled.

Draco did become horrible. Hermione no longer recognized him as the same boy that she shared a sandbox with. He was a mini-clone of his father. It made her sick to her stomach to think about it. Everytime he called her a mudblood the knife struck her with poison that induced a hatred for him.

Hermione sat at the same library table she had in her first year. Book, and parchments surrounded her, blocking her view of the door. Her hand moved its way across a two foot long parchment. Professor Flitwick asked for only one, but there was so much to put down, and she wanted everything exactly right. Every once in a while her eyes would flicker back to one of the four books in front of her searching for facts, or statistics. This was her element, she was at peace. For the moment...

A shadow fell over her, and she sighed. "Ron, I told you I'm not going to do the introduction this time!" She glanced up, and gasped as she saw eyes that were not blue, but steel gray, and hair that was as far from red as you could get. "What do you want," she spat at Malfoy.

He smiled arrogantly. He hadn't changed much throughout the years, he still had a pointed, pale face, and the sneer he constantly wore. "Can't I speak to an old friend?"

"An ex-friend."

"Whatever," he shrugged taking a seat across from her. He parted the mountain of books so they were face to face. "How're you?"

"What do you care?"

"I think the right question is why I care."

"No, Malfoy, that isn't a question, because you don't."

"And you're supposed to be the smartest witch of our age? Tsk, tsk..."

Hermione was growing impatient. She slammed her book close. "What do you want," she repeated

Malfoy dug his elbows in the table leaning forward slightly. "I need to ask a favor."

If she could have simply injured someone with her glare, Malfoy would be screeching, and writhing in pain, but he simply stared back at her with determination. "You need to ask a mudblood for a favor? You're stooping pretty low."

There it was, that sneer, as if she was the ugliest creature he laid eyes on. "Granger, if you won't do it for me, do it for that boy in the sandbox."

"That boy is you -"

"No, you don't understand -."

"I don't think I'd care to."

He shook his head. "I get that you hate me. I'd hate me too, but I really need your help here."

Hermione stood shoving her books, and parchments in her book bag unceremoniously. "You know what, _Malfoy_, at one point I needed your help too. I needed help getting adjusted to a new school, I needed a friend."

"You had Ron, and Harry," he said bitterly.

"I guess that means that I didn't need you. Well, guess what, I did. I missed you so much, but I don't anymore. If you need help, I suggest you go to one of your Slytherin mates." She stomped off, leaving him behind as he did her.

Tears burned in her eyes as she walked through the corridors, and up four flights of the stairs that would move without warning. She wiped them hastily on the sleeve of her robe before entering the portrait to their common room. She didn't want Ron, and Harry to know that she had been crying, much less about Malfoy.

"What has you crying," the Fat Lady of the portrait asked.

Hermione shook her head, "true bravery," she mumbled the portrait flinging open. She stepped through seeing the familiar red couches, and chairs, the roaring fire in the hearth. It was like coming home after a long day.

Harry, and Ron sat near the fireplace moving violent chess pieces around the board. Fred, George (Ron's older, mischievous brothers), and Lee were huddled in the corner no doubt coming up with another antic. Neville was watering a strange plant, and Dean was engrossed in his scrapbook of drawings. Ginny was probably out on the Quidditch field practicing.

She plopped down at a table in the corner of the room, and set up her materials from her book bag like they were in the library. She kept her head bent low, and tried to concentrate. Harry, and Ron knew better than to disturb her when she was in this position, like she was ready to strike at any moment. Hermione wouldn't be bothered by anyone that night.

She wrote until she fell asleep, her head on her arm. Much to her annoyance (even in her dream state), she had a what she could only call a nightmare about Malfoy. It wasn't truly a nightmare, but a string of memories she would like nothing more than to forget. Playing the sandbox in the summer, flying kites in fall, making snow angels in winter. All of these memories were bitter-sweet.

Hermione didn't wake when there were soft sounding steps on the stairs, or on the common room floor, or even right beside her. A hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped swinging around. Ron jumped back, his hands in the air defensively.

"Oh, it's you," she grumbled.

"You were working when we went to bed. Just came to see if you've gone up yet."

"Obviously I haven't," she snapped, and immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry, Ron, I'm just... Tired, I'm going to bed."

He nodded dumbly as she gathered her belongings putting them back into her pack. He watched her go up the stairs to her dormitory, she could feel his eyes on her back. "Thank you," she said before shutting the door.

After all these years it still remained a great mystery, and sweet surprise how he could be so caring. He was her proof that she didn't need Malfoy.

Malfoy... She bit her lip as she fell into her bed. Suddenly she wondered why she acted that way towards him that day. It's been six years, and she shouldn't be bitter about what happened to them, she should be relieved. He was an arse, she's lucky to have him out of her life. What he did did her a great favor if that was what she had been unknowingly looking forward to in the coming years.

If all that was true, why did the ache turn into a full fledge pain in her chest when she saw him? Why couldn't she get rid of the feeling that she needed to be there for him, even if he was never there for her? Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Hermione punched her pillow in frustration, falling into a restless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter Three

To Death

The air was becoming colder, snow falling from the gray sky, and Christmas was approaching. Hermione had her gifts for everyone months ago, being prepared as she always was. She had to be, she had to do a lot of packing to do before her ski trip with her parents in France. She found it rather humorous to explain this to Ron. He didn't understand why muggles found it so much fun to race down hill on thin boards with "spears," as he called them.

Hermione hauled her two heavy suitcase down stairs, the muscles in her arms stretching. Once at the bottom Harry, and Ron like the gentlemen they could be carried them to the portrait.

"What do you have in here, Hermione, bricks?" Ron gritted through his teeth.

"No, clothes, books -"

"Should've known," Harry gasped setting it down. "You're going on a ski trip, why are you going to read?"  
Hermione shrugged, "what if there's a blizzard, and the slopes are closed. I need to do something to occupy my mind."

Harry, and Ron rolled their eyes massaging the sore tendons in their hands as she checked the hands on her watch. Almost time to go. She hugged Ron, and Harry in turn.

"Have a happy Christmas. Don't forget to write."

"You'll be back in a week," Ron notified as if she didn't know.

Hermione sighed, "I know, Ron, but I'd like to know what is going on here."

She gave them last hugs, and exited out of the portrait to let them talk about how she was a control freak. She smiled to herself at the thought of her walking back in to hear them talking seeing the looks on their face. No, that would be too mean.

"Hermione, you didn't leave! Good!"

A red head girl hurried through the corridor to her. Ginny Weasley, Ron's little sister, Harry's girlfriend, and her friend. She hugged her.  
"Happy Christmas, Hermione. Be sure to send me those things you were telling me about."

"Postcards," Hermione laughed. "Of course, I'll send you one by owl," she said goodbye watching her climb into the portrait, no doubt to have some time with Harry.

Hermione started to walk out to the stairs when someone grabbed her shoulder. She spun around not hearing the portrait opening, and wondering who it could be. She came face to face with Malfoy.

"Are you stalking me now," it was more of a statement than a question.

Malfoy ignored this. "Herm -" He cut himself off at the look she gave. "Granger... I need your help. I'm asking - begging you to help me."

"What is it exactly that you need so badly?" Hermione regretted the curious question before it flew out of her mouth.

He smiled as if there was still hope, but it faltered when he looked at the pictures leaning forward in their frames to listen. "Lets talk someplace else."

"I have to leave -"  
"It's now, or never for me, Granger." He took the crook of her arm leading her out into numerous corridors. Hermione felt repulsed that he was touching her. She wanted to yank her arm away, but she was too busy trying to keep up with him, and not fall.

He stopped abruptly at a door, and she ran into his back. He didn't notice this wrenching the door open, and literally shoving her inside. He closed the door after him shrouding them in darkness. They were in a broom cupboard, but that was not what had her worry. She was in there with Malfoy, her nemesis.

She backed away attempting to put more distance between them, but she tripped over what sounded by the clang like a bucket. She felt herself falling back, and Malfoy reached forward holding her waist keeping her upright.

They stood there. For how long she didn't know. His hands clasped her waist protectively, and all she wanted to do was throw him off, and make a comment about him being a pig. She couldn't, she was entranced by his cologne, dark, musky, and intoxicating. She was sorry that she didn't throw him off when he snatched his hands away from her, and coughed signifying that he was uncomfortable.

"Hurry up or I'll miss my train," she said.

She could hear him suck in a breath, and began talking hurriedly. "I've tried talking with you everyday, you keep ignoring me. I'm going home today, and I need to find a way out."

"You're not making any sense."

"My father's a deatheater, you know that. You know that he wants me to follow in his footsteps."

"Your point?"

"This week I'm supposed to get the dark mark."

Hermione felt her heart jump in her throat. She wanted something to hold on to in case her knees gave out, but she was afraid she'd reach for him. "Congratulations," she choked out.

"I don't want congratulations. I want out."

"Why would you want something like that. You've enjoyed torturing me so much these past six years, I'd think you'd have a wonderful time killing others like me."

It was in his tone, he was getting desperate. "No, no, _no!_ I don't want this. I won't be branded like property!"

"Good luck with that," she said in the coldest voice she could muster. In truth she wanted to hold him, make him promises of her aid, but there was no way she could do that. There had been too many awful years between them to repair the damage. He was on his own.

"Hermione -"

"Don't call -"

"I will! You're the best friend I've ever had, and damn it I will call you by your bloody name! Help me! I know you can."

"I can, it doesn't mean I will."  
"Why?" His voice was tense. He was crying, she didn't have to see him to know that he was. She folded her arms across her chest keeping herself from going out to him.

"You treat me horribly because of my blood, and you expect me to help you? You weren't sorry for what you called me, if you were you wouldn't have done it so many times over." Now she was crying. She felt his finger brush her shoulder, but she pulled back.

"I was mad..."

"That's no excuse, you can't call me that no matter what you feel."

"I know! I know that! All I heard growing up was that word, and I said it out of context. I know it doesn't take it away. I understood why you didn't forgive me, but it made me angry anyhow, and everything my father said about mud - muggles seemed to be right. I lost my best friend, I didn't know what to do, so I started living up to his expectations, and now I'm in too deep."

"You're blaming _me_ for this?!"

"No! Damn it, will you please understand?"

She shook her head, then remembered he couldn't see her. "I'm going to be late for the train. Good luck, Malfoy." She pushed by him, but he seized her elbow, his fingers digging into her flesh.

"You're sending me to my death."

"Let me go," she said under her breath.

"Tell me why. Didn't you care about me at all?"

"Of course I did, don't you dare accuse me of not, because you're the one that screwed things up between us."

"You think I deserve to die for what I did?"

Hermione took in a deep breath. His death... In a flash of green light Voldemort, or any of the deatheaters could end it. They would take him away from her for good. Why should she care? "I would never think that..."  
"Then why are you doing this?"

"Let me go."

Reluctantly he did as he was told. And she rushed out of the broom cupboard. Halfway down the steps did she realize that she wanted to help him. She didn't want this for him, and Hermione would do anything for him if it weren't for her pride. On some level she loved that friend, but he was no longer him.

She expected him to come into her compartment on the train to continue their argument, but he never did. She sat there with Nevielle, and Luna, mostly in quiet. Nevielle petted his plant, whatever it was, and Luna read the Quibbler upside down per usual. Hermione took out one of the books she brought along.

Hours later when they reached their destination, and they stood out onto the platform to greet their parents she saw Malfoy. He gave her a rather hopeless look, and she felt her stomach drop. As she hugged her parents she made herself a promise. This ski trip was not going to be ruined by thoughts of Malfoy, she was going to have a good time, and when she got back she would continue her school year with Harry, and Ron.

Like a few nights ago she asked herself why. Why did she look back to him if she didn't care? Hermione, however, was not the smartest witch of the age without reason. She knew it was because she did care. Deeply. To death.


	4. Chapter 4

No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter Four

Malfoy's Mark

The slopes were the perfect solution to keep her mind off of Malfoy. She concentrated on how her body swayed with balance, the bitter cold wind, and the crunching snow beneath her boots. She loved the small cafe's, and the pretty foreign language around her. She felt so grown up.

The nights were different. She read a chapter each night out of one of her preferred books, but when she laid her head down, and closed her eyes she was plagued with worries for Malfoy. It couldn't be helped, but she could have helped him. She would have been able to sleep with a clear conscious if it weren't for her pride.

Every night for a week she would wake from nightmares of green light, screams, and Malfoy's pale faced, and open dead eyes. Sweat would stick her clothes to her body, matt her hair, and chill her. She went through most of the hot cocoa they brought with them on those nights. It would warm her, and put her nightmares at bay, if only for a little while.

Hermione's parents knew nothing of this. As far as they were concerned, Malfoy, and herself just grew apart. It wasn't that she wasn't close to her parents, because she was, but they were dentists, and knew little of the world Hermione entered. She didn't want them to worry about things like deatheaters, and whether or not she was safe at school. If she had told of any of the incidents in her years at Hogwarts they would have pulled her out straight away. All that mattered was that she was safe, right? She saw no reason to tell them.

It was hard leaving France, and boarding the train back to school. It was going to be harder than it was in another country. She would have to face Malfoy, and know that she as good as handed him to the very people that could be the death of him. She wanted so much to blame him, but it couldn't be done in her logical mind. She knew she was to blame for this. She didn't forgive him, it wasn't that, but he was still Draco to her in some sense. Still that boy in the sandbox, and the only boy she would share her secrets with. She was a horrible person.

She didn't want to see him, didn't want to feel that guilt that was going to boil over, and hurt her. She didn't see him once on the platform, or the ride to Hogwarts. Worry gnawed at her insides. What if they hurt him? Killed him? Would she find out? She wished she could have joined the conversation (whatever it was) with Nevielle, and Luna, but it was all she could do to keep herself in her seat. A Gryffindor couldn't get up searching for a Slytherin, she would be hexed.

"Hermione did the nargles get you?"  
She shook out of her thoughts. "No, Luna," she said tiredly. The airy girl was a good friend, but it was tiring, her beliefs of things that did not exist especially when her own mind was elsewhere.

"You know the symptoms -"

"Luna, I'm sorry, but I'm fine. Really."

Nevielle looked a bit scared, and scooted away from her. Luna was not phased in the slightest.

Hermione had to get herself together before she left the train. Luna, and Nevielle might be okay with not hearing why she was so upset, but Harry, and Ron would nag her about it until she gave in.

As she exited her compartment she kept her eyes out for Malfoy against all rational, and emotional feelings. If she saw him she would feel the guilt, and the regrets that came with it, but she had to know if he was okay. What if he wasn't? It was too horrible of a thought.

After every holiday that Hermione returned to school felt like she was coming home. It was the relieved feeling of normalcy, but she didn't have it this time. All she wanted to do was look for Malfoy. She told herself that there was no need. Soon enough, Malfoy would find her. She knew he would.

Harry, and Ron greeted her in the common room. When she mentioned the fact that Ron didn't write once during Christmas, he excused himself out of the portrait hole. Hermione, and Harry just shook their heads, and smiled. Ron would never change, and why would she want him to?

They were soon back to their schedules signaling that Christmas was truly over. Hermione's book bag was filled with its usual books, parchment, and quills. She heaved it over her shoulder one morning of their first day of classes. She double checked her schedule, and made her way through the crowded hallway to Charms.

She saw Harry, and Ron waiting outside talking between themselves. She barely made it to the doorway when her arm was jerked in the opposite direction. Hermione hardly let out a breath much less screamed when she was pulled into a dark, unused classroom. She didn't have to ask who it was.

"Malfoy! What do you think you're doing?"

His voice was harsh, and sounded as though he swallowed nails. "It's your fault!"

"What?"

The brackets on the walls suddenly lit up with fire. It casted flickering shadows over them. Malfoy shoved his wand into the pocket of his robe, and Hermione had never seen him look angry. He had been upset before she left for France, but now he was angry, his light gray eyes piercing. She was so entranced by them that she almost didn't notice that he was slowly pulling up his right sleeve.

Hermione tore her eyes away from him, and looked down at his extended forearm. What she saw sickened her to the core. A skull with a snake slithering through the gaping mouth was branded on his pale skin. Her head spun. It happened. It _was_ her fault.

"I - I'm sorry..." She choked on her tears, "I'm so sorry..." She closed her eyes, but it didn't shut out the image of the dark mark. A deatheaters promise.

Malfoy stared at her as she cried. She reached for the closest desk, and slid in the seat, her book bag falling with a loud thud that echoed in the small room. He didn't move, but watched as if it was the most interesting thing he ever saw, almost like someone studying their prey. All Hermione could do was cry.

"You should be, Granger," he drawled softly.

She nodded. There was no use denying it. "Mal -"

The door slammed. He was gone. She pulled her knees to her chest. Once she calmed herself she wiped her tears on the back of her sleeve, and picked up her book bag. She had a clean record with her teachers, and Professor Flitwick wouldn't mind in the bit if she was a tad late. After all, she had the best marks in her year, no teacher was about to give her detention for a minor infraction.

Harry, and Ron knew something was wrong the moment she walked into class. She was glad that they were too busy charming each other to laugh to ask her any questions. For the first time in her life she wished she didn't attend her class that day. She was on autopilot during the entire class, and it was a testament to her skills as a witch, because not once did she make a mistake.

The rest of the day went by in a daze, and when her classes were done Hermione ambled up to her dormitory in order to avoid any probing questions her friends would have for her. She fell into her bed unable to recall any moment from when Malfoy left her in that classroom. She was crying, and he just left her, she couldn't get it out of her mind. The thing that frustrated her most was that she couldn't be mad at him, for anything. Not for destroying their friendship, for tormenting her all those years, every incident they had did not compare to when he pulled up his sleeve.

Before she surrendered to her tired body she promised herself that she would do anything for him. She would find him a way out of the situation he was born into if it was the last thing she did.


	5. Chapter 5

No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter Five

One Last Time

The following morning Hermione woke in a better mood. The daylight pouring into the dormitory seemed to give her hope. Things would be better, because she would keep to the promise she made last night. Nothing would happen to Malfoy, not when she was there to help him. The day would give into night, and vice versa, and now it was time to make a new start with her old friend. Perhaps it was her groggy mind coming up with the nonsense, but it made sense to her then, and it got her through the rest of the day.

By her fourth class Hermione decided how she was going to talk with Malfoy. It was impossible to talk with him in the one class she had with him that day (Potions), and there was no use in the hallways; he was constantly with Crabb, and Goyle. It didn't matter, because she knew the perfect time to talk with him.

That night the common room emptied around eleven as it always did until there was only Harry, and Ron finishing their assignments that they had procrastinated on, and her nagging them until she was told to shut up for the fifth time. Harry didn't dare tell her to shut up, he would only sigh, grunt, and remark on her "noise;" it was Ron who would be so brave. He was lucky that she didn't send a flock of birds after him.

Hermione checked her watch for the time. It was twelve. Malfoy would be there by now. She flicked her wand sending her book up to her dormitory, and walked over to the portrait until Ron called her.

"Where're you going?"  
"I'm a prefect, Ron. One of my duties is checking the halls."

He looked twice at her before the portrait closed. It was a very good reason, the truth even, but he didn't believe that was the only reason. If it were so, she would have gotten started hours ago. She was just thankful that he didn't press the subject with her, but then again, he couldn't, he was still working on his Astronomy homework.

The corridor was lit by the torches on the walls giving the little warmth it had to the chilling atmosphere. Hermione could almost see her breath float up in front of her. She moved fast hoping that her pace would increase her body's heat. Bumps rose over her arms.

By the third hallway she walking through her face was numb with the cold, and she could now clearly see the puffs of her breath. _One more staircase,_ she told herself.

Hermione stood on the threshold to the fourth tallest tower in Hogwarts. The wooden door was the only thing separating her from the outside. From Malfoy...

The silver knob was like ice in her hand. She thought briefly of turning back. Her bed awaited her, warm, and inviting. The farthest thing that awaited her beyond that door, but this was something she had to do. She pushed it open.

A fresh wave of chills washed over her as she walked out on the tower. The clouds were absent in the sky letting the stars, and half moon lit the grounds better than the torches did inside.

Leaning on the low wall was Malfoy in silk green pajamas, a robe with the Slytherin crest lying in a discarded heap beside him. His nearly white hair was ruffled by the light breeze. He didn't take his eyes from the forest below, or gave any indication that he knew she was there. Until -

"Granger..."

Hermione wasn't surprised, he had the uncanny tendency to know when she was close. "Malfoy," she said shortly.

"What do you want?"

"You only come here when you're upset."

"Your point?"

"I wanted to know if I could help."

He swung around finally facing her. He was livid, but pale, paler than usual that is, and there was darkness underlining his light eyes. For a moment she thought he was going to physically lash out at her for the first time in their lives, but he didn't, his fists remained at his sides.

"It's a little late for that, Granger."  
"Maybe it's not. We could go to Dumble -"

"No! What's done is done. Thank you for your sudden interest, but there's no going back now. I have to carry this out."

Hermione glared. "You'll die."

"That's my concern, not yours."

Fresh tears blurred her vision. He wasn't going to make it easy. She quickly became angry. He didn't hold that right. In the end he brought it all on himself. All of it was his fault. She was about to point this out when he spoke again, but not in the same cruel tone. His voice cracked.

"I went to that ruddy park every Friday, every summer for six years. Why weren't you there?"

Her heart broke, but only a little. The anger she felt against him was almost washed away by his sincerity. She knew he was telling the truth. "Why would you be there? I'm only a mudblood right?"

He flinched as though those words slapped him in the face. She hid any outward signs that would as good as tell that they hurt her too.

"I'll apologize everyday for the pain I've caused you, but hell, what good would that do? You'll never forgive me."

Hermione shook her head. "I want to help you. Please -"

He rushed at her grabbing her by the shoulders. There was a wild, desperate look about him that made her snap her mouth shut. "There's only one thing you can do for me, Granger."

"What is it?"

"Stay away from me. Don't come near me, don't talk to me."

"Mal -"

"No, listen to me! We never had a friendship, understand?" His fingers dug into her shoulders painfully. "We're nothing, but rivals, and it's always been that way. If Voldemort knew..." He looked pained letting go of her shoulders taking a step back.

Hermione did understand. She couldn't save him. The best thing she could do for him was let him go, and treat him like the enemy he was. "Fifty points from Slytherin."

"What for?!"

"I'm a prefect, and you're out of bed past hours."

He walked over to where his robe laid, and pulled it on. He turned to her, and placed a hand on her cheek. "Thank you," he whispered gratefully in her ear his breath brushing her lobe. She suppressed a sigh. Then he was gone, and she was left alone.

She touched her cheek thoughtfully, and went over to the spot where Malfoy had been standing when she walked in. She leaned against the wall. It was still warm. Hermione stared out at the Forbidden Forest.

A part of her didn't want to give up so easily on him. A part of her knew that this wasn't over. She wouldn't lose him... Then it occurred to her... She lost him long ago. She slid down the wall clutching her knees to her chest, her body wracking with hot tears as she thought of Malfoy being murdered by the very people he pledged his allegiance to.

Hermione didn't notice when he walked back in. She felt his presence sitting beside her, his arms wrapping around her shoulders. She leaned into him as he ran his hand up, and down her arm soothingly.

"Shhh, it'll be okay."

"Don't go."

There was a kiss on top of her head. "I'm sorry..."

"Just..." She sniffed, "five minutes - be my friend."

"One last time."

She nodded as she snuggled closer to him for his warmth breathing in his comforting musky scent. She didn't want him to let her go, but eventually he did, helping her up, and practically carrying her back to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He kissed her, one last time on her forehead, and she closed her eyes so she wouldn't see him walk away from her.


	6. Chapter 6

No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter Six

Promises and Goodbye's

Hermione kept her promise to Malfoy. He didn't quit treating her the way he had for six years, and she ignored him. Nothing changed, it was like that night on the tower never happened. It was for the best, she kept telling herself that. If only she believed it.

Weeks passed filled with books, classes, and lectures to Harry, and Ron. Everything was back to normal, or as normal as life could be with Harry, and Ron. For a while they nagged her about the extra reading she had been doing. In between classes, at breakfast, lunch, and supper she was reading. It was her way of getting Malfoy out of her mind, but she would never tell her friends that. If they thought she was worried about the bouncing ferret they would have had a fit. It was best that they didn't know everything about her.

At breakfast one morning she propped a book against a jug of juice taking a bite of her muffin purposely avoiding looking over at the Slytherin table. The owls like every morning flew in from above. Letters dropped on everyone's plates, knocking over a few cups along the way. She was surprised when a letter dropped on her eggs. She had already wrote her parents yesterday, and they wouldn't write back so soon.

She ripped it open, taking out a letter. In the top right hand corner was a silvery marking of a large 'm'. She scanned the letter.

_Granger,_

_Meet me in the spare classroom on the fourth floor after breakfast._

_Malfoy_

Hastily she folded it, and stuffed it back into the envelope dropping it in her book bag. Harry watched this curiously.

"Anything the matter, Hermione?"  
"No," she said too quickly.

Harry raised an eyebrow, but didn't respond. Him, and Ron exchanged incredulous glances. She ignored them, focusing on the letter. She debated back, and forth if she should go. She was curious to what he had to say to her, then again wouldn't it be kind of like breaking the rules? That night seemed so final between them. Would it make it harder?

She almost laughed. Who was she kidding? Of course she was going to go. If Gryffindors weren't known for their bravery they were known for their inability to follow rules, and stay out of others business.

When breakfast was over she told Harry, and Ron that she had to go up to the library for more research. They didn't say anything against this, because they figured it was true. She did spend a lot of her time in there, but when they reached the third floor she went into the nearest corridor, and waited until Harry, and Ron were well up to the sixth floor before she came back out to go up one more staircase.

There were a lot of classrooms in Hogwarts that no one used, but the fourth floor had one. Two doors from the end of a hallway she slipped in. The brackets were already lit, and she saw Malfoy sitting on a desk, his feet on the chair. He nodded as she closed the door.

"Took you long enough," he said.

"Had to get rid of Harry, and Ron. What is it you want?"

"To tell you goodbye."

"Haven't we done this, already?"

He looked at his hands as he spoke. "Yes, but this is for good. Father is bringing me home. Voldemort wants all of his followers at a moments notice, and there's nothing I can do here."

She felt her heart beat against her rib cage. She felt sick, so sick that she looked for anything nearby that she could puke in.

Malfoy noticed her complexion turning into a sickly green. He leapt off the desk, and held her. She kept her arms at her sides, unable to hug him back. If she did she might never let go.

"If I could I'd stay here. If I could have anything though I'd have my past back. I'd do right by you."

"Don't," she said.

"I have to say this, Hermione. Let me."

She nodded against his chest, and she felt him shake. From what she didn't know.

"I can say sorry a million times, and not blame you once for not accepting it. I wouldn't either. I want you to know that no matter my mistakes in allegiance, or whatever brand I may have, no matter my surname, or anything your smarts, and logic can come up with I'll always care about you. Everyday that I'm gone I'll be hoping that Potter, and Weasley are watching out for you. Before you say anything, I know that you can take care of yourself. I've seen it firsthand when you hit me our third year." He chuckled sadly. "But these people aren't me. They don't show mercy, and know no promises. They're evil. Promise me, above everything that when the time comes for the first battle you'll get away."

She didn't want to, but Hermione cried. His arms tightened around her, but like they were glued at her sides her arms stayed. "I can't."

He sighed. "I knew you wouldn't be able to promise that... You wouldn't leave your friends for anything, and I know ruddy hell that they'll be in the front lines. You're the most loyal person I know. Fine then, promise me that you won't get yourself killed."

"I can't," she repeated.

"I know that you can't, but promise me anyway. Please, Hermione, it'll make me feel better."

"No," she wriggled out of his grasp. "I can promise you one thing."

He looked near tears. "What is that?"

"I promise that whatever you do out there, I'll forgive you for."

"You can't do that -"

"Don't tell me what I can't do!" Her voice shook.

He slowly nodded taking in her words. "Does that mean you forgive me for the last six years?"

She smiled. "Yes. You're an arse Draco Malfoy, but... I still care for you. Now, make me a promise."

"Anything."

"Write me, as often as you can. Please, I have to know that you're not..."

"I promise, but if my comrades knew who I was speaking to... You need a different name."

Hermione thought. Something different. She went through a list of her favorite characters, but none fit her.

"Caitriona," Malfoy suggested. "It means courage, and purity. It's you."

She smiled. "Caitriona it is."

They stood there in the middle of the classroom staring at their shoes, or in Malfoy's case boots. Time ticked by, and Hermione's arms ached to hold him, but she didn't dare go towards him. She regretted it immediately when he walked out, saying such a soft goodbye that she wondered if she had imagined it.

She missed her first two classes that day. She stayed in that room at the desk her old friend sat in. When she emerged into the common room three hours later, and had to be subjected to Harry, and Ron's questions, she only shook her head dazing off into the fire.

All the times that she thought she lost her best friend it had never hurt as much as knowing that it might be the last time she saw him. They were on opposite sides of the war, and those last moments with him was like being with the living dead. He would die, it wasn't a question in her mind. The only question was what would they do if they had to face each other. Would they fight? Would they be forced to kill? No, she wouldn't kill him. He would have to kill her.


	7. Chapter 7

No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter Seven

Letters From Rivals

_Caitriona,_

_I'm fine. Two words, short, and simple, but I'm sure it'll bring you the same peace it brought me when you told me the same. It's been a month since I've been at school. Never thought I'd miss being away from home this much. Write me back the moment you can. I won't sleep well until I know for at least a day that you're okay._

_D. Malfoy_

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at breakfast one morning. She hadn't heard from him in three days, and she was beginning to worry that he was... No, she wouldn't think such thoughts. He was fine if only for the day. She placed the letter in her book bag along with the other fifteen she saved.

Ron sat beside her, and peeked into her bag curiously. "What's with all those letters?"

She snapped the latch closed. "Mind your own, Ron."

Harry stared at her worriedly, an expression he didn't often wear for her. "Hermione, you've been acting... Off lately. What's going on?"  
"Nothing," she retorted. "We have more important matters to be worried about than my letters. Look, class is starting soon, lets go."

They made their way out of the Great Hall, but not without Ron, and Harry giving each other meaningful glances, and Ron staring at her book bag as though he had x-ray vision. It might have been Hermione's nerves that have been on edge since the day Malfoy left, but her friends were starting to greatly annoy her. Ron hadn't been this obsessed with something since their third year when she kept the time turner.

Hermione took out the class schedule from her pocket. The first class of the day was potions with Slytherin's. Inwardly she groaned. Ron, and Harry became much more vocal, calling Snape numerous names on their way down the slippery dungeon steps. She assumed this sudden outburst was because Ron hadn't finished his essay on the five most dangerous potions in the 16th century.

They took their stations in the chilly room, Hermione by Nevielle in front of Goyle, and Zabini, and Harry, and Ron in the next row beside them. Hermione followed the directions precisely from the book opened by her cauldron.

"Your concoction should turn purple," Snape informed as he passed the end rows, his black hair greasy as ever.

"Uh oh," Nevielle breathed. His potion had turned a dark yellow.

Hermione bent her head so her hair could cover most of her face. She started whispering directions from the corner of her mouth. Normally she would never condone giving someone the answer in class, but Nevielle always became flustered in Potions. His boggart after all was Snape himself.

She added a leg of a frog, and after bubbling for approximately three seconds her potion was a brilliant deep purple. Exactly the way the book said it would. Snape passed their station without any of his snide comments. It was only the Slytherin's that he passed compliments to, so when he had no complaints for the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, or Ravenclaws it was the best compliment that they could hope for.

"You heard about Draco, right?" Zabini, a rather tall dark boy said to Goyle, a boy that could only be described as brute. "My father told me. The dark lord is planning on having him killed."

Hermione swung around to face them, to see if what she heard was really being said, but her arm collided with her cauldron, and it was knocked off its iron stand crashing to the floor, purple liquid running in rivers through the cracks in the stone. She gasped, and ran her fingers through her bushy hair.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for you clumsiness, Miss Granger."

"I'm sorry, sir," she said watching as Snape waved his wand, and the purple rivers were gone. He gave her a look far from concern, but more peculiar.

She barely glanced at Harry, and Ron, but their expressions in a second told her exactly what they were thinking. She was losing it. She never, not once knocked over a cauldron, and how often was it that she would lose points from their house? All of these is what she should have been worried about, but all she could focus on was what Zabini said. Malfoy was going to be killed. She felt dizzy.

"Your homework assignment is to write me a three feet of the antidote, describing the ingredients, and their origins. Clean up your stations, class is dismissed." Snape sat behind his desk.

Hermione gathered her things quickly. Harry, and Ron approached her as she put her brass scales in her bag.

"Hermione...?" Ron asked unsure of how to talk with her as if she would explode any moment. "What's wrong?"

She was shaking, physically shaking, and couldn't stop. Harry put a hand on her shoulder, and she sniffed. "I - I'm... Going to the library."

"Charms is next," Harry let his hand drop.

"Tell Professor Flitwick I don't feel well..."

"You want us to lie to a teacher?"

"It's not a lie." She slung her bag over her shoulder, and turned to leave them, but Ron's large hand came down hard on her shoulder.

"Hermione, whatever that's bothering you you can tell us. What is it?"

She shook her head. She could never tell them. They could never understand.

Behind them she heard Snape bark, "leave my dungeons!"

Hermione left them bewildered, practically running up the staircases, and corridors pushing past students. She even ran into Peeves in the middle of one empty hallway blowing raspberries at her in the air. She took out her wand, forgetting the rule not to use magic in the corridors, but she yelled, "stupefy," and the rude poltergeist was flown back. _I really am losing it,_ she thought to herself. She was prefect, and shouldn't be acting in such a way. She was ashamed of herself.

Ms. Pince was so used to seeing her in the library that she didn't give it a second thought when Hermione walked in, even though classes had already started. She concentrated on a large stack of books, and Hermione strolled past her choosing her usual seat in the back corner, taking her writing materials from her bag letting it drop to the floor as she dipped the tip of her quill in the ink bottle, and poised it above the parchment.

_D. Malfoy,_

_I wish I could say everything was okay here, but I heard awful news in Potions. Zabini, and Goyle were sitting behind me, and I overheard their conversation. Zabini's father apparently told him that Voldemort was planning your death. I don't know what's going on there, but please, watch after yourself. I know you won't, but I have to ask you to come back here. You'll be safe here, we'll figure something out._

_Caitriona_

Her handwriting was messy, her hand unable to stop shaking. She folded it, and slipped it into her pocket to send it with one of the schools owls later. She decided that it was best that she go to the infirmary. Maybe Madam Promfrey had something for her shaking, for fear, for nausea, for heartache.

Malfoy had to be someplace nearby, because before she went to the infirmary she sent her letter off. She was out of there in an hour (Madam Promfrey deciding that she needed to check for multiple causes of her symptoms), and when she reached her vacant dormitory she saw a letter on her pillow. An owl could only travel so far in a day, much less an hour. Her heart gave a jolt knowing that he wasn't far from her.

She ripped it open, and the handwriting was much like her own, messy, and barely legible.

_Caitriona,_

_I've known the dark lord's plan for quite some time. He thinks my father is a traitor when he did not come searching for him at his downfall. I'm the son of a traitor, and he will put us to impossible tasks until one of us dies. It is an honor to be killed by him, and we do not hold such honor. To him I'm weak, and as of this morning I'm joining the first battle._

_Read this carefully, the first battle will take place at Hogwarts, tomorrow at dawn. I want you out of there tonight. Get as far away from there as you can. I'm not leaving my post, and I don't expect you to either, but I'll ask you anyway. Please, leave._

_If you should not leave, I'll hope I don't see you._

_D. Malfoy_

Hermione heard the chatter of students coming through the portrait. It was their break for the day. She noticed that the letter Malfoy wrote her was bunched in her hands, and she was shaking again. She was going to be sick... They weren't prepared.

She stood out on the balcony of her dormitory overlooking the red, and gold common room. She saw near the windows Harry, and Ron playing Exploding Snap with Ron's brothers Fred, and George.

It was unavoidable. It was time that Harry, and Ron knew the truth...


	8. Chapter 8

No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter Eight

The Truth

Hermione asked her two friends to meet her on the fourth tallest tower in Hogwarts. Malfoy's tower as she thought of it, the place he always went when he was upset. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his presence, though it was probably just her mind making her feel better.

Dark clouds rolled over the sky blocking the stars, and moon from view. It was sad, fitting her emotions perfectly. She was glad it was dark, it would make talking to Harry, and Ron easier, not that it was ever hard. In fact talking with them had always felt good, but this time it was different. They loathed Malfoy, and knew little of the friendship they used to share.

A breeze blew past her, and she sighed. She checked her wristwatch. It was almost one in the morning. They should be there soon, and just as she thought of it, the door behind her opened.

"Hermione," Ron asked.

The door closed, and they walked beside her, Harry looking intently into her face. "Why did you want to talk here? Why not the common room, or the Room of Requirement?"  
Hermione smirked. "Did you know that this was the place Malfoy went whenever he was upset?"

Ron scoffed, "how do you know that?"

"We used to be friends."

"What?!" Harry jaw fell.

"We met when we were four at the playground near my house. We met every Friday, and then we turned eleven, and came here, to Hogwarts... We became rivals our second year when he called me mudblood."

Ron narrowed his eyes at her. "Why are you telling us this _now_? After all these years!"

Hermione inhaled a shaky breath. "I knew you hated him. I began to hate him too. I never forgave him until a month ago..."

Harry gripped the wall, his knuckles becoming white. "What happened a month ago," he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"It started several months ago, to be honest. He came up to me asking for help. He was forced to become a deatheater, and I refused his help."

"Good girl," Ron muttered.

"No," she said, her voice breaking. "It was terrible of me! He's a deatheater, _that's_ why he left school, not because he was being home schooled. It was my fault. I came up here to tell him I'm sorry, and he told me to stay away, because if Voldemort ever found out..." She closed her eyes. The incredulous looks Harry, and Ron were giving her were not fading. They were hurt, and she was hurting as well. "We forgave each other, and we've been writing..."

They were quiet for a moment, and then Harry spoke. "Where's this going, Hermione?"

She looked straight at him. He deserved to see the truth as well as hear it. "Voldemort is coming here tomorrow. The first battle is at dawn."

"We've got to tell Dumbledore," Ron said to Harry, and he nodded, and Ron turned to her.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us any of this."

"I just found out -"  
"I meant about Malfoy!" Ron's ears turned a bright shade of red.

"Would it have mattered?"  
Neither of her friends answered. They ran out of the tower, leaving her behind. She sat in the exact spot where Malfoy had comforted her not so long ago.

Where was he? Was he safe? Was he worried? Asleep? Or was he up like she was now, thinking of her, sitting, and hoping that tomorrow didn't bring them together.

In her gut, she knew that they would have to face each other. She still knew that he would have to be the one to draw his wand. She knew he wouldn't, so the only question that remained was what would happen when he didn't? Would someone else kill them both? Whose side would their murderer be on?

Hermione heaved two more logs into the common room fire to keep it going. It was nearing three in the morning, and she stayed awake on the couch waiting for Harry, and Ron to return from the headmasters office. She didn't expect them to come back too soon, there was a lot of details to go over in such little time.

She held a book in front of her face. She wasn't reading it, merely holding it for something to do. She didn't quite feel like going up to her dormitory to get her knitting supplies. She might miss Harry, and Ron coming in.

The portrait open revealing her two friends climbing in. Beneath the freckles Ron looked pale, and tired. Harry's black hair was messier than usual, his eyes not fully opened.

"What did Professor Dumbledore say," Hermione asked sitting her book beside her.

Ron glared at her, "he's talking to the other professors now."

Her blood boiled at the look he gave her. "You know, Ron, this isn't my fault. I didn't ask for this war. I didn't make this happen."

"But you were friends with Malfoy for years without telling us."

"For goodness sakes I didn't know you two when we were friends."

Harry ran his hand through his hair sticking it up even more. She suspected he had been doing that all night. "You were friends with Malfoy, our nemesis -"

"The evil that is causing this -"

"And it doesn't matter," Harry said, Ron glimpsed at him shocked. "Really, it doesn't bloody well matter anymore. What we have to focus on is this war. We have to sleep."

"I'm sor -"

"Don't apologize, Hermione," he yawned. "If it wasn't for Malfoy, we wouldn't know about this war, we would be taken off guard, and we would have all died."

Ron huffed angrily, but Hermione knew it was only because he didn't have a proper argument. He knew that they were right, and it was the best apology she could hope for from him.

Hermione stood, and pulled Harry into a hug. "I'm going to fight this with you. All the way."

He nodded wordlessly ambling up to his dormitory. At any other time he would have argued with her, but he was tired, possibly not even fully awake.

Ron shifted his feet in front of her. She stepped towards him, and he rushed towards her making her stop as he hugged her, letting her go just as quickly. She wasn't even sure if that had happened.

"What was that for," she asked, a deep blush creeping over her. One moment he was yelling, upset, and now he was… Sweet?

"It might be the last time..."

She shook her head tears brimming her eyes. "Don't talk that way."

He took the couple of steps that had separated them again, and brushed his hand over her cheek. "I don't want to be mad at you… I can't be… Not now…" He bent, and gave her a short chaste kiss on her lips. She thought her heart might jump out of her chest. "Night, Hermione," he mumbled.

She watched as he walked slowly up to his dormitory. "Night, Ron."


	9. Chapter 9

No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter Nine

A Great Team

Crumbles of the ceiling fell on Hermione's four poster bed waking her abruptly. She sat straight up as if coming from a nightmare. She had dressed the night before in her school robe, her wand in her pocket. The other girls were screaming, not understanding what was happening.

As if from the walls came Professor Dumbledore's voice. "I must ask every student present to evacuate the building. Every student must evacuate unless you are at least seventeen years of age, and decide to fight this war."

Hermione ran down the staircase as the others scrambled around the room for their clothes. Harry, and Ron were down there, waiting, wands in their hands. In silence they rushed out of the common room, and down the corridors until the war was pressed upon them, flashes of lights, people cursed, falling, and screaming. The dirt, and dust choking them. No one could take two steps without accidentally walking, or tripping over someone.

They took each other's hands, tight, and sweaty, but the crowds of jostling people separated them quickly. Hermione felt Ron's hand wrench from her own. "Ron," she called. "Ron!"

"Hermione," he yelled back, but they were forced to start fighting immediately without each other.

Hermione wheeled around, and started dueling a girl that looked no older than herself, but carried a sneer as though it was her natural look. She ducked to the left as a green curse flew by her ear. Her heart jumped. That was too close. She yelled, "stupefy," and watched as the girl was knocked out on the ground.

She saw Harry, and Ron fighting a man with silvery hair, and squinted eyes. At least they were together, that gave her some form of comfort.

She spun on her heel to see Parkinson, a girl with the face of a pug pointing her wand at her, and she raised hers screaming, "expelliarmus." Empty handed Parkinson glared at her as she ran away disappearing into the crowd. That girl never could duel well.

She turned to fight her next opponent when she saw him. Malfoy. He looked different... Sick in fact, like he hadn't had a good nights rest in months. He probably hadn't. Maybe it was because he was tired, or simply didn't care, but he wasn't fighting as well as she knew he could. He wasn't even trying.

After cursing his adversary to the stone floor he faced her. Worry was etched onto his face, his wand shaking in his hand.

"Kill her!"

Hermione saw his father dueling a man she didn't recognize. His face half amused, and half angry at his son. It was amazing how he managed to yell at him while fighting.

Malfoy didn't budge. He didn't seem to hear his father.

"Kill the damn mudblood, Draco. Now!"

Hermione put her wand in her robe pocket, her hands at her side. She was defenseless.

Malfoy's eyes widened, and though he opened his mouth no words were spoken.

"Kill me," she mouthed.

He shook his head.

"Go on, Malfoy," she screamed. She thought of every sweet gesture he made, his friendship, his betrayal, all the times he called her mudblood, cursed her, hated her. "This is what you wanted, right?"

Again, he shook his head unable to talk.

"It is! Kill me, and get it over with!"

His father cursed the man out of the already broken window turning to his son. "What's your problem? Kill the mudblood!"

"No," he growled.

Hogwarts was literally falling apart in hunks as explosions went off, people were screeching, but louder than anything she heard the slap his father gave him. It echoed in her ears, a red print across her rival's cheek.

"You stupid boy!" He pointed his wand at Hermione.

She should have drawn her wand, hid, do something other than what she really did do. She stood there, prepared to take the fall that so many of them were doing, her emotions over the past months were raw, but now that she should have been drowning in them she felt nothing.

"Foul girl," Malfoy's father yelled as the green blast shot at her.

In a true Seekers fashion Malfoy grabbed her waist pushing her to the rubble below them. The spell shot over them, and Hermione craned her neck to see who it hit. She bit her tongue from screaming.

Collin Creevey, the boy who followed Harry around like a lost puppy, always with his camera snapping pictures of everyone, and everything. Tonight it was missing from his neck. His eyes open, and unknowing, lying on the ground.

Malfoy had her pinned only but a second before he lifted himself, and her to their feet. His wand still clutched in his hand he used it to send a curse straight at his father.

Being caught off guard his father flew backwards crashing into a wall sending more loose rocks, and dirt as he fell. Hermione was shocked by this, her mouth agape.

Malfoy held her arm dragging her literally into a nearby, empty classroom, magically locking the door not letting her go. He brought her closer to him, his body against hers as he looked into her face.

"Are you thick," he suddenly shouted. "You could've gotten yourself killed! I told you to leave!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Did you really think I'd leave my friends, Malfoy?"

He backed down releasing her arm. "No, of course not, but you should've drawn your wand. Why didn't you?"

"I wasn't going to hurt you!"

"What about everyone else?"

"I promised Harry I'd fight this with him, with that I knew I was promising my life. I was ready to fight, and give it up, but I rather put away my wand in a room full of enemies than hurt you, even if you're one of them!"

Malfoy pulled her into a tight hug. "How can you be so smart yet foolish."

She leaned against him realizing that there was a war still happening out there. She could still hear the yells, and the sounds of crumbling stone, the castle shook threatening to collapse. "We can't stay here forever."

"They'll be ready to murder me. Both sides."

"Then stay here," she said. It seemed logical, but she remembered that Malfoy wasn't always logical, pride got in the way.

He kissed her head. "We'll fight, beside each other."

She thought of all the people out there wanting him dead... "But -"

"Together, Granger."

There was no use arguing. Her friends were out there fighting, and she was going to join them. With Malfoy at her side.

They creaked the door open, and saw a red spark shooting past them. They jumped out, and began fighting the first foe they saw. Two men, twins covered in scars, one bleeding from his hairline. They were defeated easy, falling on the ground, and they turned to the next couple. Their wands like swords slashing through the air, dueling with every enemy they came across.

There was always the momentary confusion when they came across a deatheater. With Malfoy by her side it was easy to take that advantage to curse them. After Hermione cursed one, Malfoy laughed.

"We make a great team, don't we, Granger?"

She smiled, "we always did, Malfoy."

They made their way to the entrance hall when they saw the crowd stirring as if someone was pushing their way towards them, and indeed someone was. A tall man with his blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail. She should have known.

"Get away from the mudblood, son," Mr. Malfoy growled.

Malfoy pointed his wand into his father's face, and chuckled humoursly, "don't make me curse you again, father."

He swung his wand to Hermione, and yelled something she didn't catch, because at that moment Malfoy, her friend, jumped in front of her. There was a green flash, and she felt him fall against her chest. Instinctively she wrapped her hands around his waist supporting his weight until they were lying on the ground.

"Stupefy," someone yelled... Ron...

Mr. Malfoy's wand flew into the air, Ron never faltering his from his chest.

It was all in a blur, her brain trying desperately to make sense of the events. Malfoy's father had just tried to curse her when his son, her friend took her place. She looked down at Malfoy's pale face his light gray eyes open, but not seeing her. She bawled, everything around her falling away.

"Draco," she cried hoping that he would answer, leap back to his feet, call her a mudblood, anything but lie there... She ran her palm over his eyes closing them. She didn't want see them any longer. She curled herself over his chest.

Since the morning she had been numb, and she wondered if every emotion had been drained out of her, and if she would ever feel again. Like a storm it came over her a rain of the worst emotions a person could feel. Depressed, loss, heartache, and desperate. There was a physical pain in her chest, her heart literally hurt. "Please," she choked. "Please, don't leave me again. Come back... Draco..."

Hermione felt Ron's hands on her arms, but he didn't try pulling her back. It was to let her know that he was there. She knew he was there, in the back of her mind she knew that everyone was still there, that the war was continuing on, but it should have stopped. The world didn't exist anymore. There was no war. Everything that had been worth fighting for seemed to vanish with a green light.

A/N: It's not over yet, there's one more chapter. Stay tuned.


	10. Chapter 10

No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter Ten

The Hero's Graveyard

Hermione knelt in the soft dirt. It had rained last night, and she felt the moisture soaking her jeans. She ignored this. In an hour she was visiting the Weasley's at the burrow, and she would change anyway.

Gently she touched the cold stone in front of her. It sent chills up her arms. Running her fingertips over the Slytherin crest, the name, and the date she sighed. Ten years, and it didn't hurt any less to see his name there.

_**Draco Lucius Malfoy**_

_**5/6/1980 - 15/5/1996**_

_**Beloved Friend**_

She recalled the day like it was yesterday. Sometimes, she saw the green light in her nightmares, and his empty face. It still brought tears. She remembered his parents being sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban. Ron, Harry, and Ginny had sat with her through the trial, held her hand, comforted her. They did that throughout the arrangements she had to make for her old friend.

Since the day they had lowered the casket in she had visited him every Friday, every week, every year. The cemetery she placed him in was beautiful, yellow, and blue wildflowers grew everywhere. It was where the hero's in the war were buried. Lupin, Tonks, Creevey, Fred, and so many others.

"Not a day goes by that I don't think of you, Draco," Hermione started quietly. "You're still one of the best friends I've ever had. We were a good team. To death," she wiped away her tears. "I love you. I should have told you. It was foolish of me, but I think... I know you knew that. I know you loved me too."

"Mommy," a singsong voice of a little girl floated to her from the gate.

Hermione looked over her shoulder at her family, and smiled. Her daughter, five years old with curly, and vivid red hair, light freckles over the bridge of her nose. She stood there impatiently in the emerald dress Harry, and Ginny had bought for her, or rather Ginny bought while Harry waited for her, bored out of his mind she was sure. Ron stood behind her, shrugging his shoulders at their daughter's anxious behavior.

Hermione pressed a kiss to her fingers, and brought them to the stone. "See you next Friday, Draco."

She walked over, her daughter running halfway to meet her. Hermione swept her in her arms, and the girl laughed. "Caitriona Weasley you can't wait five minutes? You get that from your father," she grinned at Ron who rolled his eyes.

Hermione kissed her daughter's forehead. Caitriona, courage, and purity. Though Ron insisted that the meaning was the only reason he allowed his daughter to be named that, she knew better. He knew of the letters, and had come to accept Draco's friendship to her, albeit late. They both felt they owed him a lot, for warning them, and not only saving her life, but everyone else's in Hogwarts. Naming their daughter a name he clearly loved, what better way to repay him.

She reached up kissing her husbands lips. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too, always have."

A fake cough came from Caitriona, and Ron laughed tickling her stomach making her giggle. "And we love you, too."

As a family they walked out of the hero's graveyard, feeling the peace they didn't have in their schooldays, all thanks to those who left too soon.

A/N: The ending to this story was very different from what I had originally planned. It changed from the point when Draco pulled Hermione into the empty classroom during the war. I had planned on him kissing her, and both of them surviving. I just felt that in this story Hermione, and Draco might have had the potential to become more than friends, but at that point they were nothing more. As far as Draco's death is concerned, I couldn't imagine him living through it. In the books, sure, but not in this story. Believe me, I didn't off him to be cruel, I simply felt that it worked better. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it nonetheless. I really loved reading all of your comments, so thanks to everyone that reviewed.


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